Friday, January 26, 2018


Little black orphan
left-hand mitten, pinned optimistic
to a bald branch—

feed my irresponsible hunger
for more easy selfsame
accidents of the imagination—

foist this reckless pressure
to create, then junk,
then surrender—

turn in that freezing rancid
wind, stimulate
then arrest in me another

unoriginal wonder: where is your
partner? you're so 
pointless without one.